On a Friday afternoon, just days before my due date [she was super pregnant during this job search], I gave up waiting by the phone for the weekend, figuring I would resume my breathless anticipation on Monday. Browsing Facebook, I came upon a status update from an old friend I had worked with a decade ago. Something about it caught my eye. Could it be? ... No ... oh, no, he didn't. ...
He did. He had posted his job offer and subsequent acceptance on Facebook. And the reader can well guess what job that was.
No need to detail the ensuing hormonal rant, nor the contained message of congratulations I sent off. But be sure that, when the call from the dean came three days later—three days, long enough to rise from the dead, for Pete's sake—and told me I was not The One, my answer was, "I know. I've known since Friday."
Rejection via Facebook. It's a whole new world out there.
Readers of the administrative ilk, I hope you can learn from my cautionary tale. For while this university had been the very model of respect and propriety throughout the hiring process, it sadly stumbled at the finish line. Judging from the shock in the dean's voice, the hiring committee had not foreseen that, in a world where information moves faster than one might wish, the final candidates might connect with each other—albeit accidentally—faster than the university communicated with them.
I thought it was pretty interesting because certain details sounded awfully familiar. This is pretty much how I found out I didn't get the job I on-campus-interviewed for. And as I read the passage, I thought, You're lucky. At least they told you at all, however late. My people seem to have just figured I'd hear through the grapevine eventually, because they didn't bother to do me the courtesy of ever contacting me at all—let alone contacting me on a Monday to let me know they'd hired someone the previous Friday.